I Won't Give Up
by thesadisttensaifuji
Summary: "Sometimes, giving up is the best thing to do." TezukaXOCXOotori. Currently editing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

* * *

"Caught anything, Kunimitsu?" Kunikazu asked his grandson while putting another worm in his bait.

Tezuka gently shook his head in response. It has been a fine day for fishing, but both of them have not caught anything since they have arrived three hours ago. Tezuka kept his usual stoic face, but Kunikazu could easily tell that his grandson was nowhere near giving up.

_He can be too stubborn sometimes._

His eyes caught something interesting, and the older Tezuka smiled.

Tezuka pulled his bait from the water and was about to put another worm when he heard a loud splash. Instinctively, he looked towards the source of the sound and saw someone swimming, or should he say drowning, to the shore.

It was the girl he always sees when he goes fishing with his grandfather. She would always stand by the shore, and then after sometime, she would slowly dip her right foot into the water. He could tell she was afraid and hesitant at first, but she would close her eyes and take a deep breath to drive the fear away. Her eyes would be beaming with determination as she tries – and fails – to swim.

And that's exactly what's happening now.

Kunikazu suddenly spoke.

"You know Kunimitsu, sometimes giving up is the best thing to do. So let's call it quits for today now shall we?"

Tezuka had no idea whether his grandfather is talking about themselves or the girl, but he nodded nonetheless.

* * *

The girl walked to the shore. She was shivering in cold, and a sad smile was evident in her lips as she looked at the sunset. She casted a final look at the sea, and walked away.

"How is it, young miss?" a servant, Fukuda, asked as she helped her in her robe.

"I failed again."

"I'm sorry to hear that, young miss. Let's try again next week."

"You know what, Fukuda-san? I realized that giving up is really a hard thing to do but," she hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head of negative thoughts. "I think I'm ready to accept the truth."

Fukuda smiled, and opened the door of the limo for her.

_You finally grew up, young miss._

The limo drove off.

* * *

Fukuda remembered the first time she took her young miss to the ocean. The warmth of her smiles and her giggles as she played in the water melted the hearts of everyone who cared for the young lady, especially her.

But _it_ had to happen.

* * *

_The young girl was building a sand castle as the waves raced to the shore. The waves carried her toy shovel to the ocean, and the girl immediately stood up to get it back. A loud scream echoed in the beach as another batch of waves came and carried the girl to the sea, and everyone panicked._

_Fukuda was about to jump into the water when a young boy ran past her and dived to the sea. He swam to the drowning girl and helped her back to the shore. She could barely stand, so he put her right arm into his right shoulder and held her waist with his left hand to support her._

"_Lady Yoko!" she rushed to the young girl, and the young boy carefully released his grip on the shaking girl. Fukuda wrapped the girl in a towel to keep her warm, and carried her in her arms._

_Since then, the girl grew afraid of the oceans, and never learned how to swim no matter how hard she tried._

* * *

Hamasaki Yoko woke up from her dream. Every time she goes to the sea and tries to swim, she would always dream about _that_ incident. The salty seawater stung her eyes and her tears blurred her vision, that's why she never had the chance to see the person who saved her life.

Her alarm clock rang, and Yoko got out of bed. She opened the window, and smiled as she looked at the morning sky.

_Thank you, whoever you are._

She heard a knock on her door, followed by Fukuda's voice. "Good morning, young miss. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Fukuda-san. I'll be there shortly."

"Take your time, young miss."

Fukuda's footsteps became softer and softer, until they finally disappeared.

* * *

Yoko sat in the dining table half an hour later. Clad in her school uniform, she ate slowly, and rode her limo to school.

* * *

"How did _it_ go, Hamasaki-san?" Ootori Choutarou asked Yoko while they were having lunch in the cafeteria.

"The usual."

Ootori was about to apologize when Yoko suddenly spoke.

"Ne, Ootori-kun. I dreamt about _it_ again last night. As much as I wanted to thank that kid, I never knew who he is or his whereabouts."

Ootori felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. He was panicking inside, but was relieved to see Yoko looking away.

"Hamasaki-san."

"Yes?"

"I, um, er, never mind."

"Oh, okay."

Ootori looked at her from the corner of his eyes, and continued eating.

_She doesn't have to know._

* * *

Ootori was having a match with Gakuto, with him leading six games to five. He was planning to leave early today, but the acrobat was able to stretch the match to more than ten games. Ootori spotted Yoko in the bleachers, and got a little impatient to end the match quickly. He bounced the ball a few times and was about to throw the ball into the air when Gakuto suddenly collapsed on the floor.

Ootori sweatdropped. Gakuto gave him a hard time, but he was more than glad to play against his stamina-lacking senpai. Had it been Shishido or Oshitari, he would have to play longer. Then he remembered Yoko, and approached his captain to ask for permission to leave early.

"Atobe-buchou." He started.

"You may go Ootori." Atobe gave him a knowing look and an amused smirk.

Ootori had to bow low enough to hide his blush from his captain.

"Looks like our young boy has finally become a man. Ne, Atobe?" Oshitari said while watching Ootori threw a few longing glances to the bleachers.

* * *

Ootori hurriedly took a shower, changed into his school uniform and sprayed some perfume. He opened the club room door, and dashed to the school gate.

Yoko was already there when he arrived.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Hamasaki-san." Ootori managed to say while panting heavily.

"It's fine Ootori-kun. And by the way, that was a great match. Congratulations!" Ootori couldn't help but blush at the girl's warm smile.

* * *

Tezuka was in the bookstore when someone caught his eye. Outside, he saw Ootori and the girl yesterday. Ootori stopped in front of the bookstore window and the girl threw him a questioning gaze. He saw the Hyotei regular blush as he took the girl's bag from her arms. The girl smiled, and they walked away together.

_I should not pry into other people's business._

Tezuka paid for the book, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

* * *

Two pairs of footsteps echoed inside the church. The warm rays of the afternoon sun passed through the high windows, illuminating the place with hues of yellow and orange. The footsteps advanced row after row of seats, and stopped before the statue of the Virgin Mary.

Neither of the two made a move to sit down, nor dared to speak a word. They simply stood there in silence, immersed in each other's thoughts.

Yoko felt a familiar sensation as an unknown melody played itself in her mind while she stared at the statue bathed in the light. And then, she remembered.

* * *

_Six year-old Hamasaki Yoko sat on a swing in the nearby park. She watched a mother play with her child on the slide, and smiled sadly._

_I wonder how it feels to have my mother by my side._

"_Lady Yoko, it's time to go home. We'll come back next time."_

"_Okay."_

_On their way home, the limo passed by a cliff overlooking the ocean. Yoko turned to the window, and unconsciously held on to the glass._

"_Fukuda-san?" the girl said without tearing her gaze on the waves._

"_Is there anything you need, young miss?"_

"_Please take me to the ocean next time."_

_The old woman was taken aback. She hesitated for a bit, and then finally answered the child._

"_Anywhere you want, young miss."_

_Yoko felt a strange affinity to the ocean the moment they arrived. She did not know why, but the warmth of the fine sand on her feet felt like a mother's touch, and the cool sea breeze blowing her hair and touching her skin felt like a mother's kiss._

_It was only when she got home after _the_ incident did she understood what she felt at that time._

"_Yoko!" Her father rushed to her, hugged her tightly, kissed her on the forehead, and hugged her again._

"_First Mizuno, and now, the ocean almost took you away from me!"_

_What she heard would have been incomprehensible for a six year-old kid, but Yoko perfectly understood._

_Her mother, Hamasaki Mizuno, died in the ocean._

* * *

The melody in her head came to a halt. She knew it wasn't complete, yet she doesn't even know what it was or what it was about. She didn't know why coming to this place suddenly made her reminisce, but somehow, she felt at peace.

* * *

Ootori looked at the girl beside him. He could not understand why, but to him, she looked troubled, but at the same time, she looked serene. She has always been like that, and her smiles seem to always say the same thing: "It's okay. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She had not changed much since the first time they had met a year ago – well, not exactly the very first time – at this very same church, in this very same time of day.

* * *

_She was still wearing her Hyotei Middle School uniform, and so was he. He remembered hearing her light footsteps as she approached the statue of the Virgin Mary. He wondered if she did not notice his presence at all, or she simply chose to ignore him._

_It was almost time to go home, but for some odd reason, Ootori was glued to his seat. He continued staring at the girl's long black hair falling freely down her back, illuminated by the sunset hues._

_It was then that his tennis bag had slipped from his seat, and a loud thud echoed inside the church._

_The girl turned around._

_The moment his eyes landed on her face, he immediately recognized her as the girl he had saved six years ago. His memories of that day were starting to flash in his mind. Only when he heard those light footsteps did he remember to apologize._

"_I'm sorry, miss. I did not mean to–"_

Yoko's voice suddenly brought him back to the present.

"Ootori-kun? Is there something wrong, Ootori-kun?"

"Oh. Sorry for spacing out like that, Hamasaki-san."

He bowed out of habit, trying to shake off the memories. But when he looked up and saw her face, when he saw _that_ smile, he just couldn't stop reminiscing.

"_I'm sorry, miss. I did not mean to disturb you."_

_And she flashed him that very same smile of hers for the very first time._

* * *

Tezuka passed by a row of cherry blossom trees on his way home. The wind was blowing gently, and some of the blossoms were dancing with the wind. Combine this with the sunset, and anyone but Tezuka could have left their mouth hanging in awe. The Seigaku captain had his usual stoic face, devoid of any emotions. Nothing unusual, his talent in hiding his feelings apparently matches that of his tennis skills.

But at that moment, behind that masked face of his, Tezuka was thinking about things he didn't welcome at all – though his face didn't show any of it, not even the tiniest bit.

* * *

_Six year-old Tezuka Kunimitsu was patiently waiting for a fish to get caught in his bait. His grandfather was doing the same thing, and neither of them spoke a word. It was some sort of an unspoken rule between the two of them. Their fishing routine has always been spent in utter silence, save for the swishing of the waves, the whistling of the wind, and the occasional chirping of the birds._

_They have gotten used to the appearance of the girl trying to swim from time to time, although sometimes, out of reflex – and some tinge of worry – they would still be turning towards the shore the moment they hear the splash of the water from her efforts._

_Tezuka felt a pull from his bait, and tightened the grip on his fishing pole, when he noticed the smell of incense and the cherry blossoms floating with the waves. His eyes traced the path from which they came from, and he saw a girl in black kneeling on the shore, eyes closed and hands together in prayer – the very same girl that made him unconsciously worry every time he goes fishing with his grandfather._

_She was back to normal again after that, learning to swim on her own, and always failing every time. But a year after, she showed up clad in black again, kneeling on the shore, and the smell of incense and the cherry blossoms were carried by the wind and waves once more._

_And just like the girl's appearance every time he goes fishing, Tezuka had gotten used to it year after year._

* * *

Tezuka looked at his watch. It was getting dark, and he needed to get home soon to prepare their training schedule and line-ups for the upcoming prefectural tournament. He still had his academics and student council work to be taken care of; he had no time to think of unnecessary things.

Upon remembering his responsibilities, Tezuka adjusted his glasses, and hurried his pace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

* * *

There was no fish to catch, but Tezuka's grip on the fishing pole tightened. His face remained cool and composed as always, but his eyes were not focused on anything. He had been thinking.

Only a week had passed since the last time Tezuka went fishing with his grandfather, but he found himself going to the ocean anyway. He was alone, though, because Kunikazu's doctor instructed the older Tezuka to stay at home and rest due to health constraints.

Nonetheless, Tezuka still went fishing. He had many things to think about, and fishing always helps him clear his mind.

He was already in his third year of middle school, his last chance to bring Seigaku to the nationals. The doctor told him his arm had been fully healed, but he was well aware of the fact that he could risk injuring it again in the coming tournaments. There are many strong opponents who were at the same level as him.

There was no doubt that he would risk everything he had to win, even his arm. But would he be able to face the consequences? If he would not be able to play tennis again, would he be able to take it? Would he be able to deal with a life without tennis?

His musings were interrupted when he felt a slight tug, and he pulled reflexively. He caught a fish, and put it in a bucket.

He raised his left arm, and stared at his palm. Then, he clenched his fist. He did not feel any pain. For now.

_I can't let my guard down._

* * *

That weekend, Yoko went to the ocean as usual. She wore her usual nervous face, but the usual determination in her eyes was replaced by a bittersweet acceptance and a lingering sense of longing. And, as if trying to convince herself, she wore her usual smile that says everything was going to be alright.

She closed her eyes, and allowed the sea breeze to blew her hair and touch her skin. She removed her slippers, and felt the warmth of the sand with her bare feet.

And, as always, it felt as if she was with her mother. Her mother she could not remember even in her earliest memories.

Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the blinding light. She took one deep breath, and, without hesitation, took a step forward.

She kept walking until her feet reached the waters. It was cold, but she did not feel it. She continued walking, comforted by the thought that she was with her mother.

The water reached her chest, and she began to feel fear. But she shook it all away, and immersed herself under the water for as long as she could.

* * *

Tezuka put his fishing pole down. He saw the girl arrive a while ago, but now she was nowhere to be seen. The sight of her slippers told him that she had not left while he was not looking, but he did not hear any splash since she had arrived. Where could she have gone?

He was worried, knowing that the girl did not know how to swim.

* * *

Yoko felt the pressure of the water on her chest, but she did not care. What she felt at that moment was more than her mother's hug. She thought of it as the feeling of being inside her mother's womb, of sharing their lives inside the same body, of being one.

She stayed like that for a while, until a melody began playing in her head. It was the same melody that played in her mind that day on the church, so she let the music carry her away. The melody was warm and soothing, but sad and melancholic. It was refreshing.

The melody was about to reach its climax when Yoko felt that she was running out of oxygen. She did not want the melody to stop. She wanted to finish it. There was something about it that draws her in, but whatever it was, she could not tell. She just knew it.

And so Yoko held her breath and fought the urge to inhale. But when memories of _that_ incident flashed in her mind, her feet bolted her up to the surface without warning.

* * *

Tezuka let out a sigh of relief when he saw the girl emerge from the water. He was suddenly aware of the cold sweat running down his temples, and eagerly wiped them with a towel. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes, and then wiped his hands afterwards.

Undoubtedly, the girl made him worry. After all, he was the only one around who can save her if something happened. Even though he did not know her, his conscience would not be able to take it had she been in danger and he did not do anything at all to help her out. Guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life, that's for sure.

He shot her a quick glance to check if she was okay, and went back to fishing.

* * *

The melody stopped the moment Yoko gasped for air. The girl wiped the water on her face with her hands and took several deep breaths to calm herself down. She was this close to getting herself drowned, and yet she was still concerned about the mysterious melody.

She felt cold as the sea breeze blew, and submerged herself in the water once more for the promise of warmth and in the hope of hearing the melody again.

* * *

Fukuda looked over her young miss from inside the limo some distance away from the shore. Not too close, for Yoko wanted some space and alone time, but not too far either, so she could save her just in time if ever she got into trouble.

The old woman could not help but remember the time when Yoko suddenly disappeared from the mansion one day. They looked for her everywhere, only to find her trying to swim in the ocean. They had hired swimming instructors to teach her, but they all quit. Yoko always muttered, "It doesn't feel right," every session. And then she would climb up the pool, bow before them, and excuse herself.

She figured it has something to do with the place, and not with the way the instructors were teaching her young miss. Yoko was a bright child, and she knew she had caught on her father's sudden outburst when she nearly drowned herself.

Of course, the instructors would not approve of teaching a beginner in the ocean had they known what Yoko meant. But they were too busy nursing their bruised egos to care.

When she reported the young lady's disappearance to her father, he ordered them to let her be, and just keep an eye on her. They all knew she was yearning for her mother's presence, and they were willing to do everything in their powers to make her happy.

But now, her young miss looks like she was ready to move on.

* * *

Yoko submerged herself in the water several times, but she could not hear the melody anymore. She contemplated going for one last try, but she suddenly became aware of the yellow and orange hues of the supposedly azure sky. Had she been that long in the ocean already?

She thought about the melody for while, but decided to let it slip for now and hoped to hear it again sometime.

She hugged herself and rubbed her upper arms to keep away the cold as she walked to the shore. She bent down to pick her slippers up, and faced the ocean with a warm smile.

_Bye bye, okaa-san._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Okay. This is my first time leaving author's notes. I would like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing my story. Special thanks to AquaJet and Frog-kun for leaving constructive criticism and encouraging words. And also to fyerigurl, for the pointers she gave me regarding Yoko-chan. I hope this chapter could address the problems you guys pointed out to me. Again, thank you everyone!

**Disclaimer: **Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

* * *

Time, indeed, is slow when you are waiting.

Ootori checked his wristwatch. Ten minutes into class, and Yoko still had not arrived. He had wanted to spend some time with her before the bell, so he went straight to class after morning practice. Maybe he came too early? _No_, he shook his head. She should have arrived five minutes ago, like she normally would. He had been friends with the girl long enough to get used to her daily schedule.

He glanced at the empty desk next to him, and then to the classroom door. He sighed. He might as well think of something to pass the time.

He put on his earphones and listened to some classical music.

The tall Hyotei regular then placed his hands on his desk, fingers positioned on imaginary piano keys. He closed his eyes, and moved his fingers according to the notes and chords he was hearing.

* * *

The classroom door opened five minutes later, followed by the familiar light footsteps.

Ootori's eyes snapped open; his fingers slowed down and finally stopped playing.

He removed the earphones and turned towards the door, and was unusually surprised to see the person he had been waiting for.

In his defense, his surprise was reasonable. There is something different about Yoko that day, and however slight the change was, he noticed.

Her straight black hair, normally flowing freely down her back, was held by a white ribbon into a partial ponytail.

Her face and lips, normally pale, had a tinge of healthy pink.

Her warm brown eyes, normally dull, were bright as she smiled at him.

And, her smile, her small smile that had always been sincere but pained, was now carefree.

"Good morning, Ootori-kun," she said as she reached her seat.

"Good morning, Hamasaki-san," he managed to say.

He wanted to postpone catching up with her until lunchtime, but he supposed something happened that caused the change Yoko. So he cleared his throat and asked: "How did _it_ go, Hamasaki-san?"

For a brief moment, the light air that she had when she arrived disappeared.

Yoko bowed her head.

She replied in a low voice, barely louder than a whisper, but the weight of her words had Ootori widening his eyes.

"You are quitting? But Hamasaki-san y–"

_Your mother,_ he was about to say, but the bell rang, signaling the start of classes, and cut him off.

Yoko looked up to meet his eyes smiled at him.

* * *

Throughout the morning classes, Ootori had been throwing worried glances at Yoko. He studied her face, and found himself lost in the calm expression she had been wearing.

She caught him staring; he blushed out of embarrassment.

She smiled warmly at him; he was taken aback.

She turned back to her notes; he released the breath he did not know he was holding.

He threw her one last glance before continuing his work.

* * *

Ootori and Yoko were having lunch at the cafeteria as usual.

"Hamasaki-san."

Yoko looked up to him.

"Did something happen?"

The girl smiled sadly and looked away, but her eyes were not focused on anything.

"Nothing, Ootori-kun. Nothing happened. It's just that... I've been trying for eight years. I'm tired of trying... and failing. I felt that I should just give up, let go, and move on."

"But your mother?"

"I will still be visiting her every now and then. But I won't swim anymore. Mom will understand."

"Will you be alright?"

She turned to him and smiled, but said nothing.

* * *

Ootori was distracted, Oshitari could tell from the underclassman's inconsistent serving form. He was not focusing in the game; his body was just unconsciously chasing for the ball and hitting it with whatever shot he could perform.

The genius was a bit disappointed, as he was able to return the Scud Serve without difficulty. When Ootori is in top condition, his signature move is way faster and sharper than it was in today's practice, and even he would need a few tries before returning it successfully.

Shishido just got back his regular spot, so the bespectacled boy supposed that the cause of distraction was the girl in the bleachers from two weeks ago, who happened not to watch today.

Well, distracted or not, he won't have mercy.

Oshitari hit a winner.

"Love-Forty. Matchpoint." announced Taki, who was umpiring the match.

Ootori tossed the ball into the air, and served. He didn't even bother to say his usual _Ikyunyukon_.

The ball went straight into the net.

"Fault."

Ootori didn't even hear the call. He positioned himself behind the service line and dug his pocket for another ball.

He bounced the ball several times, Yoko's words lingering in his ears.

_Give up._

_Let go._

_Move on._

He was so used to Shishido's never-say-die attitude that these words sounded so foreign to him.

He gripped the ball tightly, tossed it in the air, and served.

_Why couldn't I help her?_

The ball landed in the wrong service box.

"Double-fault. Game and match, Oshitari. Six games to two."

He walked to the net and shook hands with the genius.

"Thanks for the game, senpai."

Then he bowed and excused himself.

* * *

Tezuka was surprised to see Ootori Choutarou, of Hyotei Gakuen, that Sunday. The girl did not show up, and he was about to go home after a day of fishing when he caught sight of the younger tennis player.

He decided not give it much thought, and went on his way.

* * *

Yoko was puzzled. Instead of going to the cafeteria for lunch, Ootori took her to the rooftop. Not that she minded, because the cool breeze and the azure sky reminded her of the ocean. Only the sounds of the waves were missing, and everything would be complete.

She felt something cold touch her ear, and suddenly, she heard what she was longing to hear.

She lifted her hand to touch the cold thing, and was surprised to touch something warm instead.

She rubbed her fingers to the warm thing, and the familiar melody echoed in her ears.

She closed her eyes, and held the warm thing until the melody finally reached its end.

She dropped her hand and turned, and was surprised to see Ootori holding a seashell in his right hand.

"Hamasaki-san."

His left hand reached for her right. He put the seashell on it, and held it in place with his right hand.

"This is for you."

Tears fell from her eyes. She gripped the seashell tightly, and buried her face in Ootori's chest.

Ootori hesitated for a while, but finally gave in to the sudden urge to touch her hair.

She pulled away slowly, and met his eyes.

His fingers reached for her face and wiped her tears.

"Thank you."

And then she smiled at him.

He smiled back.

Her smiling face – that was all the assurance he needed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

* * *

Hamasaki Tatsuya, Yoko's father, stared at a photograph of his late wife on his desk one cold morning, deep in thought. It rained quite heavily the night before, and the sky was still laden with dark clouds. Good thing there were no winds, and the downpour ceased into occasional drizzles shortly after dawn.

He hated the rain, or at least he wanted to. Rain meant water, and water killed the love of his life. But water sustains life; every living thing depends on it. And so was he. Scientifically, human beings would die within 72 hours without water. But he had put on for ten years without _Mizuno_. _His water._

His eyes shifted to Yoko's photograph.

He was lucky he had another source of water, and that is Yoko. She was young and teeming with life, just like the ocean teeming with fish. She had given him the water that kept him alive all those years and in the years to come.

A soft knock interrupted his musings, and the door to his study opened, revealing old Fukuda. She had brought in his usual cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Tatsuya," she greeted as she entered.

"Good morning, Fukuda-san," he greeted back, but his eyes remained fixed on the photograph.

He could hear her footsteps approaching, until they finally came to a stop.

"She seems more cheerful lately," he remarked without averting his gaze.

Fukuda placed the cup on the table.

"That's true, but we both know that she is still missing out on something."

Tatsuya looked up for the first time.

"She is a strong girl, Tatsuya. She wants to let go of the past and move on with her life, just like what we want for her. But you have to help your daughter. She needs you to allow her to find the closure she seeks."

He opened his mouth to protest, to say that he _did_ allow all those trips to the ocean despite all his fears of losing his only child, but nothing came out.

"I'm not asking you to recount that stormy night on the yacht. I know how painful it is for you. All I'm saying is for you to share with her whatever memories Mizuno has left behind. Yoko simply wants a part of her mother, something that she could associate with her, to feel connected with her."

She held his gaze firmly as she said her little speech, and continued to do so until he gave her an answer.

The coffee was getting cold as the clocked ticked, and finally, after a long silence, Tatsuya spoke.

"I'll think about it."

* * *

Yoko was in high spirits as she walked to her classroom that morning. She had been listening to the sound of the waves whenever she had the time, thanks to the seashell Ootori gave her. It helped her identify with her mother without actually going to the ocean and making everyone around her worry.

To put it simply, it helped her move on.

It was very kind of him to do that for her. She knew she owed him a lot of things, and began to think of ways to repay the boy.

She heard quick taps behind her, and before she could completely turn around to see who it was, Ootori already caught up with her.

"Good morning, Hamasaki-san."

"Good morning, Ootori-kun. How's morning practice?"

"We weren't able to play because the courts are wet, but we were still able to train. Sakaki-kantoku decided to do some weight lifting and stretching exercises at the gym."

"That's good to hear. You have a tournament coming up, right?"

"Yes. Would you like to watch our games?"

"Sure."

Their conversation went on like that, until they finally reached their classroom and the morning classes started.

* * *

Ever since that day on the rooftop, the two of them became closer than ever. Aside from the usual lunches at the cafeteria and visits to the church, they did their homework and studied for exams together at the library. Yoko had been a regular audience of the afternoon practices of the tennis club, while Ootori tried his best to encourage and support her in every way he could.

On one occasion, he asked: "Do you like music, Hamasaki-san?"

Yoko just looked at him, clearly puzzled about the sudden question.

"I noticed that you aren't a member of any club, so maybe you are interested to join. If you happen to like music, that is. Or any other club you like, I suppose," he added the last part hastily, not wanting to sound imposing to her.

She bit her lip, not really expecting such an inquiry. She was not ready for it, but the question touched a part of her that she did not know herself, enough to make her consider it.

"But you don't have to bother yourself about it, really," Ootori said, growing uneasy from the awkward silence his question caused.

"I guess so."

* * *

That night, Yoko lay in her bed after a tiring school day. She put the seashell in her ear, silently wishing that the sound of the waves would drown the thoughts occupying her mind.

_Do you like music, Hamasaki-san?_

_I noticed that you aren't a member of any club, so maybe you are interested to join._

_Do you like music? You like music. Like music. Music..._

She let her thoughts trail, and soon enough she heard the usual melody she wanted to hear. She knew it by heart already, but not because of the many times it played itself in her head. Yes, she knew how to read notes and sing do-re-mi, but she is no prodigy. All she knew was she felt a strange sense of familiarity.

Her thoughts were back as soon as the last notes echoed in her mind.

_Music... Perhaps I should give it a try._

* * *

It was a Saturday afternoon. Yoko just got home from a visit to the local music store, checking out a couple of instruments and music sheets. She ended up buying CDs to listen to on her laptop and was about to play some pieces when she heard a knock on her room.

"Lady Yoko, your father wishes to see you in his study."

"I'll be right there. Thank you, Fukuda-san."

* * *

Minutes later, she was standing outside the door of her father's study. She briefly wondered why he had called for her, but decided to let it go. She would know soon anyway.

She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

She opened the door and stepped inside.

"You sent for me, otou-san?"

"Yes, dear. Please take a seat."

Yoko closed the door, and walked towards her father. It was then that she noticed a white hat with a black ribbon, and a silver flute on the desk. She looked at her father curiously, completely forgetting to sit down.

He sighed, knowing that he couldn't back down now. He had to tell her what she deserved to know.

"These are your mother's. When we went searching for her, only the hat was found. The flute was left in the yacht's cabin."

He kept his head low, avoiding her gaze. His eyes followed her every move instead: she reached for the hat and hugged it to her chest, while her other hand fingered the cold surface of the flute. She closed her eyes while doing so, savoring the sensations. And after a few minutes, she neatly placed them back on the desk.

And then, she turned to him.

He hesitantly looked at her face, not knowing what to do or say at the moment. His mind was blank, and all he thought was that she was starting to look more and more like her mother with those warm brown eyes and pale skin, save for her long straight black hair that she got from him.

He was surprised when she suddenly hugged him, but he soon eased to the contact and hugged her back.

"Thank you, Otou-san," her voice was muffled by his clothes, but that didn't matter. Her gesture was enough to make him understand what she was trying to tell him.

"You're always welcome, my child."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

* * *

Fukuda stopped in her tracks while passing by Yoko's room one night. A couple of maids were behind her, as they had just finished cleaning duty for that day. They, too, stopped walking.

One of them asked, "What's the matter, Fukuda-san? Did you forget anything?"

She hushed them down and gestured them to listen.

They heard the playing of a flute, one note at a time. They exchanged glances, which turned to knowing smiles.

Their dearest Lady Yoko was finally moving on with her life.

* * *

It had been such an emotional day when she received her mother's belongings. She excused herself after thanking her father, and went straight to her room.

She went in front of the mirror and put on the white hat. It was a bit worn out and large for her, but as long as it is her mother's, it would always be special.

She looked at her reflection. The white hat made her pale skin seem a few shades healthier, and the contrasting color made her hair look pitch black. And then, for a moment, what she saw was not her face anymore, but her mother's.

She smiled and removed the hat.

She then sat on her desk, and picked up the flute. She had seen people playing it – some on live concerts, some on television – but she had never played one before. She was never too keen about music. Of course, she learned a bit about it in school, but that was that. Theory is always way different than practice.

But at that moment, none of it mattered. It was only she and the flute, and everything came naturally. Her fingers positioned themselves on the holes: left index finger, left middle finger, and left ring finger, and then right index finger, right middle finger, right ring finger, and finally right pinky.

She then put her lips on the hole, closed her eyes, and blew gently. It was a low C. She then lifted her pinky, and blew again. This time it was a D. She continued lifting and blowing, until she finally finished the do-re-mi.

She felt glad with what she had done, and continued to explore with the instrument.

She practiced playing the do-re-mi over and over, until she memorized it. She then began to widow simple melodies.

The first one was a nursery rhyme, Mary had a little lamb. She sang the song quietly, and after sometime, her fingers were already doing their work.

_E. D. C. D. E. E. E. Mary had a little lamb_

_D. D. D. E. G. G. Little lamb, little lamb_

_E. D. C. D. E. E. E. Mary had a little lamb_

_E. D. D. E. D. C. Its fleece was white as snow._

She repeated it until she finally retired for the night, smiling in her sleep.

* * *

For the succeeding days, she widowed more nursery rhymes. One time, while she was playing Row, row, row, your boat, she saw the seashell in her desk and suddenly remembered the familiar melody playing in her head since that day on the church.

She stopped playing and put the seashell near her ear. She heard the sounds of the waves, and after a while, she heard the melody. She listened carefully to the notes, and began playing as soon as the music finished.

The first note echoed, and Yoko felt sure of her playing. It's almost as if someone was guiding her fingers in playing this beautiful music. She poured her feelings into the piece, and she was teary-eyed before she knew it. She finished the melody and allowed her tears to fall freely on her cheeks.

Playing it allowed her to release emotions she kept to herself, and finally hearing it with her ears helped her to understand herself better. The melody was her inner voice, talking to her as she played it.

She practiced playing it for days, each time gauging her feelings. She faced the truth: she greatly misses her mother. One day, she would play the piece for her, she vowed. One day.

* * *

"It feels great to be in the ocean again after such a long time, ne, Kunimitsu?"

"Ah."

"How's ojou-san?" The older Tezuka asked, referring to Yoko. He was ordered to rest for a few more days, but he insisted that he felt worse imprisoned inside the house doing nothing.

"She only came once, the week after you last saw her."

"Oh, I see. Looks like she has finally given up."

The two Tezukas fell silent after that, as they had always been while they were fishing. After an hour, they heard a musical instrument playing. They turned to the source of sound, and saw Yoko standing by the shore. She was wearing the white hat, matched with a black dress. Her eyes were closed; she was too immersed in her own playing, lost in her own world.

Tezuka was pretty sure she was playing a classical flute piece, but he could not tell which one is it. He knew only a handful, as he was always busy with tennis, academics, and student council duties. He had very little time for recreational activities, which was actually spent in fishing.

"That's quite a sad piece she is playing," Kunikazu commented as he resumed fishing.

Tezuka silently agreed as he turned to his fishing pole.

* * *

_Okaa-san, can you hear me playing? I don't know what this piece is called, and I don't know when I heard it. It just came to me one day, and I decided to play it for you now using your flute. I just started learning a while back. Do you like–_

The wind blew the hat away, stopping Yoko from playing out of pure shock and panic. She dropped the silver flute on the sand and rushed towards the water.

* * *

The Tezukas turned to the shore, wondering why the music suddenly stopped. They saw Yoko already on the water, as if she was chasing something. Their eyes followed where she was heading, and they saw the hat floating on the water a few meters away from the dock they were fishing at.

"Kunimitsu, go get the hat. I'll handle the girl. "

Tezuka nodded and dived on the water.

Kunikazu ran back to the shore to prevent Yoko from going any further. The tide was high, and the water already reached her waist. He knew she could not swim, and it would be a big problem if the waves would carry her away. He was not in perfect health to swim, so it would be up to Tezuka to save her.

He was about to shout a warning at her when he reached hearing distance, but that was not necessary. She had already stopped walking.

* * *

Yoko froze as soon as she saw Tezuka's face as he swam back to the shore, the hat in his left hand. But instead of the hat, she saw her six year-old self. She trembled as memories of _that_ incident flooded her mind.

Her knees suddenly felt weak, and she was about to collapse when Kunikazu finally reached her and held her by the shoulder, guiding her back to the shore. She knew nothing of it; all she could see was the silhouette of a kid saving her from drowning, a silhouette slowly turning into a six year-old Tezuka.

Tezuka reached the shore after sometime, panting a bit. He heard his grandfather asking the girl if she's okay as he walked towards them, but it seemed she had been unresponsive. Her eyes were fixed onto him. She seemed to be in a daze, but as he neared her, her eyes slowly regained focus.

"There's your hat, ojou–"

Both Tezukas were shocked as Yoko suddenly threw herself onto the bespectacled boy, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she muttered, and then she slowly pulled away and stared into his eyes. She was in tears, but she was smiling warmly at him.

_I finally found you._

* * *

**A/N: **It looks like a lot of you were rooting for Ootori. It's time for Tezuka to step into the limelight! Before I forget, thank you so much to all those who added I Won't Give Up to their list of favorites/story alerts. I really appreciate it, but I would love to hear from you. Please tell me how you find the story so far by leaving a review. It would really be a big help in my writing, and a big boost in my confidence. Again, thank you very much!


	7. Chapter 7 Announcement

**A/N:** To everyone who gave this story their time to read (and review), many, many thanks. I apologize for not updating for two months, and I hope my one-shots made up for the hiatus. However, I plan to rewrite this story. Reading back what I have written and reflecting on how I wrote them made me realize that I could've done better. Thank you very much to those who have been guiding me while I'm in the process of writing. To Frog-kun, AquaJet, The Jabberer, fyerigurl, and SunneRaine, thank you for the thoughtful suggestions, constructive criticism and the sound judgment. To NXYZ Community, thank you for actively taking part in my growth as a writer. To everyone who read and reviewed, thank you for the words of encouragement and support that you've given me. So, as a temporary parting gift, I decided to publish a sneak peek of what I originally intended to write for the seventh chapter.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

* * *

It was amusing to watch his grandson deal with women, Kunikazu thought.

Tezuka visibly stiffened at the contact, and even after Yoko pulled away, he had kept his guard on. To the normal person, his stoic face would mean he wasn't the least troubled about the incident, but the slightest crease in his forehead and the smallest narrowing of his eyes were enough for his grandfather to see his inner turmoil.

At the back of his mind, he was debating whether Yoko was a fan girl or not. It was quite rational of him to think so, considering that she suddenly hugged him after doing the small favor of fetching her hat from the water. And as if to confirm his suspicions, she had been staring at him for a while now.

If she were really a fan girl, then he's in for a big headache.

Fortunately for him, that seemed not to be the case. There was something about the way she looked at him that told him she wasn't one of those obsessed girls screaming at the top of their lungs during tennis matches.

She was looking at him, but it felt like she was looking at someone else.

* * *

**A/N: **And the rest will be continued as I publish the rewritten story. There will be a lot of changes, especially regarding Yoko-chan. I'll probably be writing one-shots here and there while I'm writing, so I really hope you would check them out. And of course, I hope you'll still be watching out for the update of the newly improved I Won't Give Up and give it a second chance. Again, thank you so much and sorry for the disappointment. Love, Tensai.


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